We went to the DeYoung Museum in San Francisco yesterday – The Sondag Guys and the Mom.  First of all,  I must say that I am such an art ignoramus in general.  I probably know more than I think I do, but I couldn’t pull any of it out of my head at a dinner conversation – but I know what I like.  I write that disclaimer because what I thought I was gushing over yesterday – Van Gogh’s Starry Night – was actually Van Gogh’s Starry Night Over the Rhone.  Well, la tee da.  No wonder I had never noticed the couple in the lower right hand corner, nor the boats moored in the foreground nor the cityscape barely visible in the starlight.  Wrong painting.  Guess what, I couldn’t have been more entranced, nor more thrilled had it been his more famous masterpiece.  I’d say I even like it even better but I can only compare it to the cheap prints you frequently saw on college dorm walls when Don MacLean’s song “Vincent” was a hit. 

We were lucky enough to have the last timed tickets of the day,* so when it was near closing time we went back to near the beginning when there were about three people in the Starry Night Over the Rhone room so we could get up close and personal.  It nearly brought me to tears and I’m ready to head to France for awhile, which is something I never thought I’d say.  These paintings (along with Gauguin, Rousseau, Toulouse-Lautrec, Seurat and more – oh my heavens am I spelling those right?) are on loan from the Musee d’Orsay which is undergoing renovation. 

The DeYoung is the only place to view these in North America.   Between that and reading that Illinois is the number one worst state in which to retire due to financial woes in the state (even worse than California?) and of course the snow for some reason seems to make it undesirable – well I guess I just have to count my California blessings now and again.  

The best part about the field trip was that you may have noticed that normally nice, friendly, unpretentious people upon entering a museum of fine art, suddenly get looks on their faces as if they were born of highly educated royalty in hopes that nobody knows that most of them, like me, don’t know diddly about what they are looking at except that it is special somehow.  Kind of like the winery phenomena only it’s art.  The Lafayette Sondags, with me often giggling in the background I’m afraid, have never been known for their sense of decorum in the face of pretentious snobs, although as they get older they are toning it down somewhat.  However, we were the only people in the exhibit who actually looked like we were having FUN – we smiled and laughed; we made quiet fun of some of the more silly attempts at greatness from the studios of by-and-large insane or at the very least ridiculously eccentric group of artists; we discussed at length the possible security measures in place.  That scrawny homeless looking guy over there with the beret?  Probably would take you to the ground if you so much as laid a finger on a frame.  The spider on the ceiling? A spy camera for sure, monitored by ten people just in case nine blinked at the same time, at least one would know who stole one of Al’s favorite paintings in the world.  Which is (drum roll please): Van Gogh, Bedroom at Arles – and by the way I know enough about art that when you find it almost impossible to stop and look at a single thing in the painting without exerting great effort with your eye muscles, because your eyes are compelled to keep moving all over the painting – that’s good composition.  See.  I do know. And I dare you to try to concentrate on one item in this painting without your eyes trying to pull you somewhere else in the room…

To be fair, Jeff is our artist and he did offer some wonderful insights into some of the art, but gosh darn it he did it with his trademark broad smile.  I was never so happy to be at an art exhibit, where I’d occasionally run into my sons who were clearly enjoying themselves but still not getting arrested or anything. 

Jeff leaves tomorrow, our Christmas is “over” except we’re going to save our stockings for December 25th, even though I think I have to put Jeff’s in a locked steel box for his ride back to Santa Barbara.  We’ve had a wonderful time.  I’m still going to try to bake cookies, but for now I just didn’t get around to it, viewing timeless art and all…  

*Mary’s Museum Tip of the Year: get the last timed ticket of the day, walk in, go to the END of the exhibit and start there – by the time you get to the beginning, which is usually where the coolest stuff is, you’ll be practially alone except for the guards looking at their watches.